A Wayward Warlock
by wayward-pond
Summary: Takes place during S3. Merlin finds an unhealthy way to cope with his inexorable destiny. Trigger warning. Self-Harm. Whump. As of right now a one-shot, but could turn into more.
1. A Wayward Warlock

**A/N: Yeah, this one's dark. I've just been doing bad again lately and writing this whump!Merlin made me feel a little better. Takes place just before Goblin's Gold I think. It's a one shot right now but could easily turn into more.**

_**Warning: Self-Harm/trigger warning**_

**Disclaimer: I don't think anyone would want me to own Merlin **

He did_ not _just say that. The king did not just give _Morgana_ the credit for ending a siege she and Morgause had started. Morgana met Merlin's eye as she took her place next to Uther. Her smile no longer held a sense of mirth and sweetness. No, now it was seductively sinister.

_How can no one else see that?_ Merlin thought. _Where is the Morgana I used to know? _Merlin knew if anyone else was in his shoes they would probably be feeling utter dis-contempt towards Uther's ward, but at the moment, all he could feel was sadness. Emptiness. Remorse. It was his fault that Morgana had turned out this way. He had been the one who poisoned her; the one who had let her fall into Morgause's corruptive power for a year.

That night he tried to tell Gaius how he felt. Gaius didn't understand. He felt that Merlin should be fearing Morgana. Merlin asked him how anyone could be so full of such hate.

"Don't let that happen to you, Merlin."

Merlin slowly twisted his spoon around in his bowl. It wasn't other people that he hated, the only person he hated was himself: the monster he had become.

After helping tuck his royal arse-ness into bed that night, Merlin made his way back to his room. It was late, Gaius was already snoring in his bed and the fire was starting to die down. When Merlin had closed the door to his room he rested his forehead against it and felt his breathing become less and less steady.

"Bord, wiþ stende hine," he whispered with his palm against the handle. There was a small 'click' and Merlin knew that even if a key was used, no one could unlock the door. He then checked to see if the Silencing Spell he periodically placed on his room was still up—it was.

Moving slowly away from the door, Merlin made his way to his bed. He lifted his mattress up and with a quivering hand pulled an herb cutting knife out. He turned around and sat on the floor with his back against his bedside. His breath became more and more jagged with each exhale.

Merlin shrugged out of his jacket and tried to slam it angrily onto the floor, but only managed to bang his fist against the floorboards since the fabric was so light. His breath hitched and let out a small choked noise after finally exhaling. No more waiting. Looking down at his arms he saw all the lines from the past few months—all in various stages of healing. Locating a pale white patch that didn't seem to be covered enough with them, Merlin gripped the knife in a shaky hand and made a brutal first slice—the tears finally allowed themselves to come.

He hacked again and again; criss-crossing and cutting into his flesh and only able to think, _you deserve this you good for nothing. _However, he could barely feel the wounds smarting because all the feeling in his mind was focused on release.

"_Don't let that happen to you, Merlin," _Gaius' words reverberated back into his mind; it only made him cut deeper. His hate was towards no one else but himself. So what did it matter? _I deserve to hurt; I've hurt to many other people, I need to hurt_. He aggressively lifted his trouser leg in search of more pale skin that needed to be stained red. _Destiny _Merlin thought _I'm not doing it properly, I keep fucking it up. What's the point to it if you can't change it? I was the one who pushed Morgana away by trying to help her. You could have tried harder. You never try hard enough. You didn't even try to save Freya. It's your fault she's dead. It's your fault Father's dead. Arthur can't even know he was your dad. What's the point to anything anymore?_

After a few more cuts on his leg, Merlin shakily put the knife down and leaned back into his bed frame. Tears were starting to finally crust on his cheeks but blood was still flowing out of his wounds. Merlin lifted his arm so he could admire the large, dark, bubbles pooling out. Putting his arm back down, Merlin closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate on breathing normally again. All his energy was spent out, but he finally felt better again. However, recently Merlin noticed it had taken more and more cuts to numb his senses. The numbness was also starting to wear off sooner than ever before.

With a quiet scourging spell, he cleaned the blood from his arm and leg, climbed into bed, and fell asleep through a new wave of tears.


	2. Too Far Gone

**A/N: Here's a treat (sort of?) for me finishing school for the year!**

Sunlight streaming in through Merlin's window woke the sleeping warlock. His breath hitched and he winced in pain when he felt his wounds rub against the rough sheets on his bed. Great Stones of Nemeton, what was he going to do? Morgana's soul seemed lost forever, the king had to repair the castle and lower town which were damaged by the siege (Merlin had no idea how they could do this without magic), and his head was a pounding war drum. Unfortunately he didn't feel much better. How was he ever supposed to face Morgana after attacking her and dropping a dungeon ceiling on her? It was his fault. _I could have told her about my magic_. _No, you stupid, no one can know about your magic; besides she would have told the king and had you killed, she's too far gone. _

_Maybe that's what I deserve. Maybe Uther should find out about my magic, off me, and be done with it. No one would care..._wait a minute—was that sunlight coming in through his window?

No, no, _no_! He had slept in to late. Arthur was going to be furious with him! Then again, the prince always seemed to be furious with him—he'd let so many people down.

Only bothering to change his neckerchief, he put on his jacket, unlocked his door, and hopped down the stairs trying to get his boots on.

"_Merlin_!" Gaius scolded from his place across the room. "I've been calling for you to get ready for the past twenty minutes! You're going to be—"

"Late. I know," Unfortunately that silencing spell worked two ways. Not bothering to grab the piece of bread on the table for him (he was never very hungry anymore), he left the physician's chambers and trotted down the stairs to make his way to Arthur's bedroom.

Not bothering to knock, as per usual, Merlin entered his master's chambers. He was met with a cold scowl and a "Where _have _you been?" from across the room at the prince's desk. Arthur was only half way dressed and his hair was mussed up; although he appeared to be hard at work with reparation paperwork.

"I—I thought you might need some extra rest," Merlin lamely supplied.

"More like _you _needed extra rest. You look terrible." Merlin snorted. "Besides, there will be time for rest when the people have homes to rest themselves in."

A new wave of guilt washed over Merlin. The lower town had only just rebuilt itself a year after Killgarrah's attack, and now they were having to start over once again.

"Not only that, I have to draw up a plan for restrengthening the castle walls and courtyards," Arthur mumbled, mostly to himself.

"What do you need me to do, Sire?" Merlin asked.

"What you need to do—what you need to do is get me some breakfast! I shouldn't even have to ask for it; you're supposed to just do it!" he replied indigently.

"Right, I forgot you're always cranky before you've had your sop in wine."

Arthur gave Merlin a tired frown before Merlin hastily exited.

Leaving the kitchen with a terse Audrey waving a spoon at him, Merlin ran back to Arthur. The prince seemed to no longer be hungry.

"You have to eat!" Merlin scolded while panting from his run. "Your father needs you in tip-top shape so take the bread," Merlin demonstrated by picking it up off the plate, "and stuff it in your mouth!" He promptly pushed it into Arthur's mouth. "We need more light in here," Merlin mused aloud. He opened the curtains before asking Arthur if there was anything else he needed; knowing he wouldn't get a thank you. "Go to the lower town and assess the damage for yourself. Sir Leon already has but I'd like to have several accounts on record."

"Of course."

"Make it quick as possible. I already know the tavern's still intact."

"Of course, Sire."

"You already said that—never mind, go on then!"

Merlin forcibly smiled before leaving Arthur once more.

The lower town was a wreck. Many of the wooden houses were burned down or crushed. Luckily, Merlin noticed, Gwen's house only had a roof that needed repair work and a door that would need replacing. Thinking of whom, Guenivere stepped out of the house next to hers. Seeing Merlin made her smile sadly.

"M'lady's given me the next few days off to help around here however I can," Gwen explained.

"Morgana," Merlin said not thinking.

"Yes—that is whom I meant by 'm'lady'," Gwen teased.

"How long do you think it's going to take for things to be rebuilt?"

"Well—I don't believe it's as bad as Arthur thinks. But then again I'm an optimist. Cenred didn't actually burn the crops, just trampled a few acres. And the villagers are ready to help each other out rebuilding homes and furniture; because it's not like they have much else to do. I think Uther just needs to help in loaning some sturdy timber and such."

Merlin felt a teeny bit envious of Gwen's positive outlook. He didn't understand how she could see all those things in the heaps of rubble and despair surrounding the castle.

"Do you really think Uther will loan the money needed?" he asked.

"I'm honestly not sure if he would—but he's put Arthur in charge of reconstruction and I know he will do whatever it takes to help."

"I should probably be getting back to him to report..." Merlin trailed off lamely.

"You all right, Merlin? I know it all seems like a lot, but things will get better; you'll see," Gwen comforted.

"It's just one thing after another," Merlin shook his head and headed back to Arthur.

After giving his sultry report, Merlin added, "Gwen's still characteristically optimistic though."

Arthur, who had been resting his chin in the palm of his hand, looked up at Merlin, "Guenivere's helping? That's just like her." A little smile danced across his face, "I don't want her doing anything to dangerous though. Tending to the wounded and all that is fine, but she shouldn't be lifting any heavy debris."

Merlin scoffed, "I'm sure she could help just as much as I could."

"No—she could definitely help tenfold more than you could," Arthur retorted.

"I think it's cute when you defend the girl you fancy," said Merlin.

"Shh—I—Merlin, I wasn't defending Guenivere, I was having a go at you!"

"And now you're defending yourself defending Gwen," Merlin smiled, trying to ignore what Arthur said.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin," Arthur tossed his chair cushion at Merlin; hitting him on his thigh.

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin," said Arthur when he saw Merlin grimace.

Concealing his panic at the heat steadily pulsing more and more on his leg, Merlin gave Arthur a pensive look and said as calmly as he could, "I'll just be going then, shall I?" He quickly spun around and hastily exited the room.

Once in the corridor Merlin hid himself in the nearest alcove her could find and looked down at his trousers. A few of the cuts from the night before had opened up and a rusty stain was starting to show through the fabric. He said a scourging spell to clean the breeches and skin underneath the fabric; then he lifted the fabric and said a quick healing spell. Merlin waited in the alcove until the wounds were once again scabbed over. _How could you be so stupid? _


	3. A Hollow Voice

**A/N: *cries* School started today**

When Merlin entered Gaius' chambers his shoulders were drooped and so was his heart. Gaius, who was making some herbal paste, looked up from his work and saw his ward's slumped demeanor.

"Are you feeling alright, Merlin?" he asked concernedly.

"'S fine," was his reply.

"Is the serket wound bothering you? You really need to let me have a look at it and make sure it's not infect—"

"I saiD NOTHING'S WRONG!" Merlin snapped.

Gaius' eyebrow rose so high it nearly disappeared beneath his hair.

_You cruel monster_. "Gaius—I—I'm sorry. I just—Kilgarrah took care of that; you don't have to do anything—I'm _fine_." Merlin said in an almost pleading voice. He didn't tell Gaius that he still picked at he wound and kept it from scabbing over.

"You look really pale though. At least drink this hawthorn for blood flow." he pulled a small phial off one of the shelves behind him.

Merlin felt awful for allowing himself to be so rude to Gaius, and relented.

"So what are you doing here, Merlin?" Gaius broached cautiously, "You've been eating your lunch in the kitchen the last several months."

Not looking Gaius in the eye because of that last lie he had told him, he sat down at their table and said, "Arthur just doesn't need me right now."

"Until he's king, Arthur's always going to need you; probably afterwords too."

Merlin snorted.

"That's not what's bothering you, is it?" Gaius said.

"I told you nothing's bothering me," Merlin firmly replied.

"_Merlin_"

"Fine. It's just that—seeing the lower town in shambles—I—I could repair it all. But I can't," Merlin tried getting at least a tidbit of what was weighing his mind off of himself, but it wasn't helping much or coming out coherently for that matter.

However, Gaius seemed to act like he understood, "Camelot has withstood attacks before you arrived. Although your magic is a great asset of protection, I do believe the people will come back nicely. I'm making this poultice for a few of the injured knights and common folk, and close to no one's lost their lives."

_YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! _Merlin wanted to scream, _IT'S MY FAULT CAMELOT WAS ATTACKED IN THE FIRST PLACE! _

"I need to go get back to my duties," Merlin said. His voice was different, hollow.

Gaius pursed his lips but made no reply when Merlin left.

However Merlin didn't go back to Arthur's chambers. The prince was already pissed off Merlin and having gos at him; he had said so himself. So Merlin aimlessly wandered the halls of the castle, pushing through the pain of his injuries. He deserved them after all.

There was once a time when Merlin thought he and Arthur could've been friends. Once you got past the whole egotistical exterior he tended to put up, he was actually a half-way decent person and someone Merlin had once enjoyed being around. But then there were the lies. Merlin knew he would have to lie about having magic right off the bat. However, he never anticipated the extent of the lies covering up the former ones, or the lengths he would have to go to in order to keep Arthur from understanding the whole big picture. Heck, Merlin didn't even understand the whole picture himself.

Somedays Merlin wondered if Kilgarrah had lied about his role in Camelot and his own destiny really wasn't of that much importance.


	4. Servant Hunting

**A/N: Chemistry was cancelled today so I got a little extra time for writing stuff besides AP English essays (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧! **

Without much thought of where he was going, Merlin finally wound up by another one of his haunts. The stairs that led deep down beneath the castle to where the last dragon had once resided.

Shaken about winding up there without any foresight, Merlin hastily spun around and scurried back up the stairs.

He slumped against another wall and fingered his neckerchief, _what is wrong with me?_ he wanted to know. King Uther is right—sorcerers are crazy. He puffed out a breath of air to quell his trembling hands. Merlin didn't want to be crazy. He wanted things to be the way they were supposed to. A family together, a kingdom not run in the shadow of fear, Arthur to accept him for who he is, and Freya. He nearly laughed at the absurdity of his impossible thoughts.

The clomping noise of footfall drew Merlin from his thoughts. Only a few seconds later, two Camelotian guards, Sir Leon and another one of Uther's knights, Sir Kay, rounded and strode up to Merlin.

"Oi,"

Merlin quickly drew himself up.

"The prince is looking for you," Sir Leon continued.

Merlin could've sworn he heard Sir Cay mutter, "Though why he puts up with you is beyond me."

The warlock blushed—he knew he was a terrible servant.

Beginning to slowly walk back down the hall, Merlin heard a huff behind him.

"Y'know, I know where the royal chambers are...you don't have to walk me," Merlin said in a cracked voice.

"Prince Arthur's orders," Sir Leon replied; looking awfully upset that servant hunting was what his knightly career had been reduced to.

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. Merlin wondered if this was what it would be like to be escorted to the execution block.

Arthur looked perturbed when Merlin entered his chambers.

"I have nothing to wear, Merlin," he announced after the guards had left.

"Sounds like a personal problem that Guinevere could solve," Merlin japed.

"Actually, it's a problem _you_ need to solve since it's _your job_ to wash my clothes. I have no need for new ones," Arthur crossed his arms.

Merlin couldn't believe he had forgotten the wash. He hadn't hung the prince's clothes to dry yesterday and therefore they'd be stale today and have to be relaundered.

"Sorry, m'lord, I'll get onto it immediately."

"Damn right you will," Arthur walked around to the other side of the bed and dragged a water basin out across the floor. Merlin's jaw dropped.

I've taken the liberty," Arthur retrieved a large pile of clothes from the same place as the tub, "of having these brought upstairs so I can make sure you do your job right this time, _Me_rlin," and threw the damp wad at Merlin.

"Right here, right now," Arthur pointed.

Merlin picked up the wet clothes and walked over to the water to dump them in. However, when he went to roll his sleeves up to churn them around, realization dawned on him.

"What the heck are you doing?" asked an exasperated Arthur.

Merlin was washing the clothes without rolled up sleeves; his jacket and shirt sopping wet up to the elbows.

Merlin smiled cautiously up at Arthur, trying not to wince at the irritation the soapy water and clothes were causing his cuts. "I'm washing your clothes, sire."

"You really are thick, aren't you Merlin?" Arthur japed, but Merlin was still addressing him formally. There was something wrong here.


	5. You Know It's Wrong

"Why do you keep addressing me like that?" asked Arthur.

"Like what?" Merlin cautiously asked.

"Like peasants are supposed to. You've never been consistent in keeping titles apart."

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir—sirenians are herbivorous mammals with paddle-like forearms and tails," Merlin poorly attempted to cover his blunder.

Arthur just rolled his eyes, "I'm serious, Merlin."

"You're always serious," Merlin replied.

"As are you, of late," Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and squatted down by his manservant. He couldn't stand his servant sulking.

_Damn,_ Merlin thought, _he has noticed_.

"I just—don't see what there's to be so cheerful about," his arms were still submerged under Arthur's dirty laundry and he was looking at the wall; not at the prince.

"Look, I know you're upset about all the people who have died at Cenred's behest...but you need to remember what I told you: 'No man is worth your tears'. You can't let the bothers of the kingdom get to you Merlin; especially when that's _my father's _job.

And—oh for God's sake Merlin pull your sodding arms out of the wash basin before the dirt from your jacket contaminates the water!" Arthur reached forward and yanked Merlin's ridiculously wet arms out of the water, causing the latter to hiss in pain.

"What was that?" Arthur asked concernedly.

"What was what?"

_That look a warrior gets when he's been wounded in battle but doesn't realize it until after the adrenaline wears off, _Arthur thought. "The look like you're hiding something," He loosened his grip on his friend's arms which he was still grasping. _Is Merlin injured? He wasn't even fighting when Cenred's army stormed the castle. _Arthur tried remembering any clue that might suggest he had been hurt then. "_What if I was dying?" "I wouldn't be complaining. But you're not. So where've you been?" "I was dying." _He had threatened to throw Merlin in the dungeons after that. What if Merlin was actually hurt?

Looking directly into Merlin's eyes, he saw a fear that new-to-battle stallions had. Merlin's muscles were completely tensed up. His hands clenched in tight fists before yanking out of Arthurs grip.

"I'm not hiding anything," Merlin mumbled.

Arthur eyed the arms Merlin had pulled away from him.

"Take off your shirt then."

"What?" Merlin asked shakily.

"I said take off your shirt. It's stupid to sit here in sopping wet clothes."

"For a second there it actually sounded like you care," Merlin tried to control his breathing.

Arthur pinched his lips together and turned his head sideways, not wanting to admit that he _did_ care whether or not Merlin was hurt. However it would be detrimental to the implied servant/master code of conduct to do so.

"Merlin, _please_," Arthur begged. He just wanted to help.

Merlin knew he was as good as caught, but the flight in his flight or fight instinct wasn't working at the moment. He was glued to the spot.

"I told you 'm fi—" Merlin didn't have time to finish his sentence but with a small yip. In one swift motion, Arthur lunged at Merlin and spun him around; yanking his jacket off his shoulders before pulling his shirt and neckerchief over his head.

When Arthur walked back around to stand in front of him, Merlin felt naked; even though he had only lost his shirt. He crossed his arms tightly against his chest, but all the while knowing there was no way to hide his marks now.

"What happened to you, Merlin?"

Merlin felt so guilty. To stifle a sob, he stiffly moved a hand to cover his mouth with several knuckles.

Light from the window glinted off several fleshy pink scars, and made the even newer ones stand out in a stark contrast to Merlin's white pallor.

Concern in Arthur's voice turned to anger, "Who did this to you?" His manservant's arms looked like they had been severely paper-cutted by an entire library of books. And some of these scars were _old_; much older than the battle. Yet some of them looked as new as yestereve. _So it must be someone in the castle,_ Arthur reasoned.

Merlin didn't know what to do or say—well he _knew_ he couldn't actually say anything; his mouth was too dry. He'd been caught. But caught for what, exactly? The little reminders that he deserved to suffer? His only coping mechanism keeping him clutching to the thread of life? His magic was still safe. He was still living a lie with Arthur.

_Bet you wouldn't act so caring if you heard I poisoned your sister, _Merlin thought.

"_Who did this _Mer_lin?_" Arthur asked forcibly.

Merlin still couldn't speak. He would cry if he did. So he just shrugged his tense shoulders.

"Merlin, did—did you do this to yourself?"

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Merlin tried willing Arthur to disappear.

"Why would—what the hell is _wrong _with you?" Arthur demanded. Thoughts whirled around his head and images of Merlin _deliberately _slicing his skin pushed their way forward.

Being brave, Merlin did not flinch at the remark. He opened his eyes and stared boldly into his master's.

"You—you need to stop doing this, okay? It's _wrong _Merlin. You know it's wrong."

_I know I'm sick, Arthur, but no, no it's not. I deserve it; plus it hurts to good. _

"Merlin, I need your word; tell me _you'll stop hurting yourself_." Arthur was scared for Merlin and needed to hear that he would stop.

"..."

"Damn it _Mer_lin! Don't you have anything to say?"

"'m sorry," Merlin choked out. Once he opened his mouth, the dam holding Merlin's tears in broke and several streams of salt water fell down his face.


End file.
